Hair Cut

I made a fair exchange today.   I sacrificed my hair for the company of a pleasant young hair stylist.   Or so I am trying to convince myself.

As usual I put off getting my hair cut.   And I need my hair cut.  I mean, I need to keep it short to make it do what I want it to do.   Which is stick pretty much straight up.   I have been blessed with thick, no , I mean …. thicker, hair.   And if it gets too long it just can not be propped up.  So my hair has been ridiculously flopped over for a week or more.

We had been invited to an extravaganza so we had to leave for a  good chunk of the day.  With strategic maneuvering I managed to get us out of the house early.   And with my brilliant maneuvering I suggested if we pass a Great Clips on the way to where we are going we should stop so I can run in and get a hair cut.   Not my usual Great Clips where the girls are familiar with what I want when I say use a three and a half on the sides and make it slope up from back to front.    This was unfamiliar territory.   But I still had faith in Great Clips.

The first GC we see is pretty full.   Graduations abound this time of year.   And its kind of rainy.   Why wouldn’t everyone be out getting their hair cut?

But bless Husband’s heart who has already plotted out the GC’s in the unfamiliar area and we pass another one!   We pull in and the lady behind the counter needs my name, DOB, SSN, address and name of all children put in her computer before she can cut my hair.   Seemed a little intrusive.   Another lady comes out and says “how do you like your shoes?”   I was a little surprised as most people don’t notice my shoes, there’s no reason to.   But I had on my Skeletoes.

We had a nice little discussion about my shoes.  Friendly GC folk.   Good vibe.

My stylist person cleans up her station, another good sign, before having me sit down.   I explain to her what I want.  She stands there with her hand on my shoulder.   Looking in the mirror at one another we have our hair cutting planning session.   I would like for you to use a three and a half on the sides, and the back, but take it up over the crown and then I want it to slope up, and get longer towards the front.  She even repeats the “three and a half” a couple of times in her questions.   This is important to remember.  She asks a few appropriate and seemingly in-tune to my expressed description questions.

She gets the clippers and starts on the sides.  Now in fairness to me I could not see the side of my head she was cutting because the store is actually 2 walls of windows, the front wall and side wall, the side wall being directly behind where I was sitting.   The glare from the windows hit the mirror and the angle I was sitting prevented me from seeing myself in the mirror.   I am thinking this may have been a planned strategy.

Meanwhile, while I can’t see my head.  She is talking away.   She lives in the town I live in, which is not the town we are currently sitting (me) and standing (her) in.   She is also attending the same college I did attend.   She then tells me a few, meaning at least three, stories about some of the instructors.   Stopping often to drop her hands and make expressive glances to accompany her story-in the mirror.   During one of her expressive glances she stepped sideways and the glare from the mirror was reduced and I could see the left side of my head.

I know I told her a three and a half.

I am pretty certain she used a two and a half.

I sat staring at the reflection in the mirror.   Which seemed to encourage her.   And the intensity of her story intensified.   She stepped away again and the glare was back.

Maybe I saw that wrong.  Maybe I did not see that.

She put the clippers down.  Grabbed the spray bottle and sprayed everything but my bangs, which were being worn all messy and sticking up (kind of) with the rest of my hair.  She combed my bangs straight down.   No, I do not know why.   And then proceeded to play with my hair to push it all in a Mohawk type formation.   She kept doing this.

She did it even longer.

I was a little mesmerized by her rhythmic mohawking.

When she was finally pleased with the formation of my hair she took the scissors and cut straight back a line across the top peak of the Mohawk.   Then she parted my hair on the side.

Then she stepped in the way of the glare again.   Yup.   What I saw the first time was what I saw the second time.

You may, at this point, ask why I did not say anything.   I ask you, what the hell could she have done to change what was already done?

Exactly.   I was in it  for the sheer experience and curiosity at this point.

She parted the hair a few different ways.  Then she would Mohawk it again.  Each time she went to the Mohawk she entered in to this fugue like state.

My bangs meanwhile hung straight down.   Until she finished with the Mohawking and bizarre parting.   The she seemed to remember the bangs.   “Were those sticking up when you came in?”

“Yes, yes they were.”

“Okay.”   She then combed them straight up.   Cut them across.   Stood back.   Mohawked my hair again.    Cut the top of the Mohawk ridge.   Combed the bangs straight up again.   Cut them.

And wa-lah.


I gave her a four dollar tip.    Mostly because I did not want to stand there and talk while I was dying to get outside and talk to Husband about this experience.   Unfortunately he had sat in the car the entire time and missed it.   Oh, he did go get me Tim Horton’s .

He kissed me when I got in the car.   Did not say anything.   I said “it looks stupid doesn’t it”.   He said “no, not at all honey”.

We have that kind of relationship.   He does not need to lie to me.   I know it looks stupid.  It was funny that he lied to me.  Knowing I knew he was lying to me.

We head on to the birthday party we started out early to.

I sit down on the floor and lean up against the chair my sister is sitting in behind me.

And she says  “so what’s going on with your hair?  You getting recruited by the Marines?”